


Untranslatable

by HiddenTreasures



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Circular Gallifreyan, F/M, Fluff, General, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenTreasures/pseuds/HiddenTreasures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose finally asks the Doctor about the odd, circular scribbles posted around the TARDIS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untranslatable

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for TimePetalsPrompts Ficlet Friday prompt “An unexpected lesson in Gallifreyan”.

She’d taken notice of it as soon as she’d stepped on board; small pieces of paper littered around the TARDIS with unique, circular symbols on them. At first, she’d paid no mind (he  _was_  an alien after all). But after the sun expanded and the earth exploded and after their first date, she realized that the circular writing was still circular. The Doctor said the TARDIS translated every language, even writing. So why wasn’t this translating?

Perhaps it wasn’t even writing. Perhaps it was shorthand, and not an actual language. Perhaps they were doodles of some sun or planet or whatever that the Doctor had visited or planned to visit. Or perhaps it was a language too old and profound to translate.

Rose instantly knew that that was the case, and she instantly knew that the circular scribbles were written in the Doctor’s native language.

She let him have this secret for awhile. She didn’t ask, and he never said.

But then one day, after the Dalek and hastily inviting on a new passenger, she sat with him in the galley, both nursing a cup of tea. Neither of them said anything, both content to sit in silence with each other. Rose knew the day had been exceptionally hard on the Doctor, and even though she was exhausted, she still sat with him, keeping him company.

She saw more of the writing tacked on to various appliances: the fridge, the oven, the one wonky chair that wobbled when sat in.

She finally plucked up the nerve to ask him about it, wondering about the secrets hidden in the elegant script.

The Doctor seemed taken aback by her question and seemed to war with himself for a few moments, long enough for Rose to feel awkward and uncomfortable for asking.

She was about to excuse herself with an apology when he said gruffly, “S’called Circular Gallifreyan.”

Rose froze mid-stand, surprised he’d actually given her an answer. She finally relaxed back into her seat and repeated, “Circular Gallifreyan?”

The Doctor nodded, swallowing thickly under the pretenses of taking a sip of tea; but Rose knew better, he’d finished his nearly ten minutes ago.

“Yeah,” he said shortly, glaring down into his empty mug. “From my planet. Gallifrey.”

Rose repeated the name in her head, feeling slightly dizzy with the information. He always used to brush her aside whenever she inquired about his home, and after while she stopped asking.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, tracing her fingers along the circles on the note stuck to the chair beside her.

The Doctor snorted.

“That one there is a reminder to fix the bloody thing,” he said dryly.

“Are they all like that? Little memos to fix things?”

He shrugged and said, “Not all of them. The one on the fridge is a reminder to get more food. You little humans need to eat more often than I do. But some are just little notes to myself, about anything and everything. Even my impressive brain can’t remember all the little things.”

Rose smiled at him teasingly, her tongue poking out from between her teeth. Her heart rate increased when she saw him glance down at it and lick his own lips.

“So could you teach me?” she asked quickly, trying not to think about his tongue, or her tongue, and especially not of their tongues together.

The Doctor looked taken aback by her request, and said, “S’not easy to learn.”

Rose nodded slowly, her cheeks flaming from the gentle let down.

She was about to excuse herself for the second time when the Doctor said, “But I suppose there’s no harm in teaching you the basics.”

They sat for hours in that galley while he explained to her the intricacies of his language. He taught her that Gallifreyan had so many more tenses and parts of speech that it wasn’t able to be perfectly translated. He taught her that the ordering and connections of the circles was different every time, depending on the meaning or flow of a sentence. He showed her that a more emotional sentence or phrase flowed smoothly across the page, while angry phrases were harsh and dissonant. But to Rose, it was all so beautiful, and she suddenly felt so very small in comparison.

He finally took out another scrap piece of paper from his pocket and quickly scribbled something on it before passing it to her. She traced her fingers around the large outer circle, and the smaller, rounded shapes on the inside.

“That’s you,” he said warmly. “Rose Tyler.”

Rose felt a wave of heat and giddiness roll through her at the pride and affection in his tone.

She smiled brightly up at him, and pocketed her name very carefully. She stood up and pressed her lips to his temple in gratitude. He froze in surprise, and she cringed inwardly, cursing herself.

“Goodnight, Doctor,” she said brightly, making her way to the door, her cheeks flaming. “And thanks.”

He finally broke out of his stiffness to smile softly at her.

“’Night, Rose.”

Rose was still aware of the various notes the Doctor had written to himself, and she had a renewed appreciation for the universe; it was much more vast and complex than she could possibly imagine.

But one tiny detail caught her eye over the next few weeks: amidst the circles, harsh and smooth alike, she noticed a familiar set of symbols. She didn’t quite believe it at first (after all, everything looked so damned similar) until she pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and held it against the writing tacked to the console.

She gasped when they matched perfectly: more than half of the Doctor's notes in some way, shape, or form contained her name. She traced her fingers against the smooth likes of her name on the note stuck to the computer and grinned to herself, feeling happy and warm, and utterly in love with her daft Time Lord.


End file.
